I Will Follow You Into The Dark
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: And so it ends. Character death, angst, tragedy, more character death. Oneshot.


**Title:** I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**Author: **Indigo Night

**Summary: **And so it ends.

**Feedback: **Yes please, yay reviews!

**Pairing: **AgronxNasir

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Spartacus or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.

**Spoilers: **Technically, for history.

**Warnings: **Character death, angst, tragedy, more character death.

**Author's Note: **This comes from a dream I had, literally, almost verbatim. I woke up from the dream in tears, though I fear I may not have conveyed it into words the tragedy it was to live. See further notes at the bottom. The title of course comes from the Death Cab For Cutie song, it just seemed to fit. Read, Review,

**Enjoy!**

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><p>It was a truly pitiful sight, that last march of the slave rebellion. The clank of chains, shouts of the Romans, and groans of the wounded filled the air, accompanied by the stink of blood, sweat and terror. They were driven along the road by a legion of soldiers, stripped bare but for the chains, in a slow moving line. The craftsmen baring the instruments of their doom hurried along beside them, and a crowd of onlookers followed behind with mixed horror, fascination, and triumph.<p>

In later centuries, the histories would record their number as six thousand, but in reality they were a much more pitiful sum. Few had even had an active part in the rebellion, mostly only women, or those who were very young or very old. Nearly all of the fighting men had perished rather than be taken.

Agron had forced himself to look at each and everyone one of them as they passed. He'd seen every cross along the road, every broken and bleeding body, whether in the act of being nailed down or already dead and free. Some had met their fates with dignity, others cried and begged; nearly all screamed in the end.

Agron went to his death with no fear. He had known the risk they took, well aware of their chances. His only regret was that this death of humiliation was to be his, rather than an honorable death on the battle field. It had only been bad luck that had seen him pulled from the battle field still living.

Though perhaps not his only regret, he reconsidered, as he caught sight of a certain dark head moving among the other prisoners. Nasir had fought long and hard to be seen as a man on equal standing with the former gladiator, and Agron would not do him the disservice of wishing the smaller man had run from battle. And yet, deep in his heart he cursed the gods for not somehow sparing him.

He remembered the last conversation that had passed between them, and even now it brought a wistful smile to his lips. They had stood side by side, facing the legions of Romans before them with swords in hand.

"_Hibernia," Nasir said._

_Blinking, Agron glanced over at him._

"_When battle is ended, I wish to go to Hibernia." Nasir had to tilt his head back to meet Agron's eyes ,but he'd never minded despite his protest against his nickname. There was a smile on his lips, but his eyes held the sadness of truth. "My Dominus spoke of it sometimes. It is said to be an island, beyond even your homeland, where the men are fierce as animals and have the powers of gods. It is said even the Romans will never conquer them. I would like to see that."_

_Agron's lips tilted up in an effort to imitate Nasir's expression, but the motion fell flat. He nodded in agreement, though words stuck in his throat. After a moment he promised quietly, "Wherever you go, I will follow."_

After that there had been no more time for words. When Spartacus fell they knew all was lost. Agron had down his best to route the remaining men, to make a last fruitless stand, but the Romans had prevailed.

Three days of captivity and torment later they were being submitted one by one to their final torment. Strangely, when his time came, Agron found a feeling that was almost relief settling in the pit of his stomach. It would be a slow and painful death, but it would end. One small blessing came in the realization, cowardly though it may be, he would not have to watch Nasir's suffering; it was a thought he clung to.

But it seemed he had counted his blessings too soon, as a cry of his name drew his thoughts from his looming fate. Behind him Nasir had broken from the line, his now familiar challenging hiss reaching Agron's ears as he fought the soldiers. There was no true purpose to his actions, no amount of strength from the little man could free them from this end, but he struck out in blind desperation, fighting to reach Agron.

Agron's own muscles moved in automatic response, straining back toward the Syrian, but the Romans caught and held him before he could move more than a step. Nasir faired hardly better, though he fought with tooth and nail to shake the soldiers off.

After a moment the nearest officer grumbled a command and a second cross was brought into place. It was hot and miserable work; what did the Romans care if this slave died now rather than further down the road? The abrupt change caused Nasir to stumble a step when the soldiers began dragging him forward rather than pushing him back, but he recovered quickly and struggled to aim toward Agron.

Agron's had stretched out over the shoulders of the men between them, reaching for the Syrian as a burning need to feel soft skin against his own just once more consumed him. His mouth was moving, though he did not realize it, calling out Nasir's name in answer to the Syrian's own cries. It was as though an invisible thread was tied that strained and tore at his chest as they were kept apart.

_Brave little man_, a removed part of Agron's mind thought as they were pushed against their separate crosses; Nasir never stopped fighting. Even as he was wrestled against the rough wood, his arm continued to reach toward Nasir, and the smaller man mirrored him, though the distance was far too great to be breached by arm alone.

Their eyes remained locked, and there were tears in Nasir's eyes as the Romans picked up their hammers, though not a single one fell. His mouth moved in final words, voice almost too soft to be heard of the clamoring around them, so that Agron more read than heard the faint sound.

"Wherever you go, I will follow."

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><p>End note:<p>

Did I succeed? Are you depressed yet? Well let me depress you further. Because you see, the most tragic thing about this is that it's a legitimate possibility. The show so far has more or less followed history, and (SPOILER ALERT) historically this is how the rebellion ends. All of Spartacus' remaining followers were crucified along the road from Capua to Rome. So, even if by some miracle both Nasir and Agron survive until the end of the series, this is a very real possible fate. I mean, I suppose there is a slim chance that somehow they'll get away and go live out their days someplace else, maybe on a quiet farm where they hunt and raise sheep and have lots of sex or something. But let's face it, this is Spartacus. So get out your tissues and think that one over.


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